Queen's Milking

Aemma settles down in a rocking chair in the corner of the nursery, beckoning you to sit down on her lap. You embarrassingly climb onto her lap, being mindful of her swollen abdomen. You are still wearing nothing but a diaper, just like a real baby. Yet the queen seems nonplussed with such informality.

"I AM a little hungry, Your Grace," you confess as you snuggle with her,

"Wonderful," the queen says in approval, "Because I have the main staple of your new diet right here."

She then moves to undo the bodice of her dress, exposing her sumptuous bosom. Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as she places her hand on the back of your head and gently pulls you to one of her nipples.

As if by instinct, you begin to latch on and suckle. At first, nothing happens, but soon a river of sweet milk begins flowing out of the queen and into your mouth. It takes you by surprise, but after a little bit, you relax yourself completely and close your eyes as you continue to drink.

Aemma cradles you close to her body, rubbing your back as she says, "That's it, baby boy. Drink as much as you'd like. Mummy's got plenty."

Only now realizing how parched and famished you are, you feel as though you could drain both her breasts in a single breath. But you pace yourself and take it nice and slow.

As infantile as this whole scene is, you find it oddly intimate, as well. In fact, within a couple minutes after you start nursing, you feel your manhood beginning to form a tent in the front of your diaper.